Shades of Gray
by black hole tragedy
Summary: When Ginny blows up and leaves Harry, he's shattered. But he isn't one to give up easily, and this is one prey he won't let slip through his fingers. Miles away, Draco meets a beautiful new neighbor, Gina. Best of all, she doesn't ask questions. Yet.
1. Reflections and Retributions

They say eyes are the window to the soul. So what happens when you look into the windows of the one love, and all you see is a selfish, arrogant scene? You leave them, that's what you do. And so it was one night when Ginny looked into Harry's eyes, leaning down for their normal goodnight kiss.

Now, to be fair to the lass, it wasn't only this moment that set Ginny off. In fact, it was a string of incidents, stemming from the fact that Harry wanted a tame housewife, and Ginny wanted a life. She'd long tired of holding screaming matches over the smallest things, and not being able to wear anything nice without him deeming it too "racy". But this incident was the tip of the iceberg that finally broke the surface, and the following morning, Harry awoke to an empty bed, a much shrunken closet, and a hastily scribbled note.

_Harry,_

_You know I've never been much good at wording things. And this is one hell of a statement to put into words. You're a hero, but not mine. I'm deeply sorry. In time, you'll find your princess. Whoever she is, she's one lucky girl._

_Sincerely,_

_Ginny_

And funnily, what hurt his heart most was the "sincerely." They'd always made a game of signing their letters with corny sayings like " Awaiting your return," and "Your faithfully beloved." "Sincerely"? It was the single word, so polite, so devoid of warmth, that left a hole in his heart, And so he sat, head in hands, on the edge of the sofa, not crying, not angry, not even regretful. Just confused. _Why?_

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Many miles away, in the heart of a bustling wizard city, Draco heard the sound of a suitcase being lugged up the stairs, and finally halting. He frowned. This was his neighbor's third tenant this _month_, and judging by the last two, he'd be having a few sleepless nights. He heard a female voice indistinctly, then a loud clank indicating keys being dropped, and finally, heard the lock turn, and the door shut. The corridor returned to its usual stifling silence, and he sat back, hands locked behind his head. He stared out at the starry sky from his window, idly identifying Polaris and, then, grinning, Draco itself.

Now, if it had been any other neighbor next door to the arrival, they would've listened cautiously to the door shut, counted to thirty, and then come over and introduced themselves. Draco was no other neighbor. He was perfectly happy to sit here, alone as he always seemed to be these days. In fact, he rarely left his room at anymore. The fame that came with being a part of Voldemort's reign was not exactly a pleasure, and with his aristocratic features, even these foreigners recognized his face. They jeered, they hurried their children away. Immediately after the final battle, even with the pardon of the might Potter boy, Draco had been the recipient of quite a few curses, and even a few wandless brawls. His nose still retained a slightly leftward tilt, gained from a well-aimed punch.

Still, he supposed it was better than the fate many of his comrades. Crabbe and Goyle were sitting in Azkaban, and his own parents were long dead, both killed in the aftermath by citizens who didn't quite appreciate what the Malfoy's role in the Dark Lord's reign had been. His fate? Well, that filthy Potter had done one noble thing in his life and put in a few words for him at the Ministry, and in a society revolving

around the idiot, that was as good as gold. Disgusting, wasn't it?

He lay down on the sofa, and remained absolutely still, making no sound except for his steady breath. The sounds from next door came through clearly once again, now that his brain was not whirring quite so hard. The sound of wings flapping, a long stream of curses in what seemed to be several languages, several that even _he_ didn't recognize. Impressed, he sat up to listen closer. The sound of something being hurled against the wall? Hm, feisty. He wondered what she looked like. Maybe she was a blond? He'd just have to go and find out, wouldn't he? He started to get off the couch, then sat back down. "Tomorrow," he muttered to himself, "tomorrow."

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Ginny sat, staring numbly at the shards on the floor. How had he found her so fast? She'd barely been in her new apartment for twenty minutes when the owl had pecked at her window. Of course, it wasn't just any owl. It was Hedwig II, named and purchased by a boy so in love with his owl he would have no other. She swooped in as Ginny opened the window reluctantly, more out of compassion for the bird than out of interest in the letter. And in fact, it wasn't even a letter. It was a bloody _package._ She sighed. If the Boy Who Lived was anything, he was stubborn. She opened it, reading the letter first.

_My Love Ginny,_

_I don't want a princess. I don't want to move on. All I want is you. Come back and we'll fix this, together._

_Love, Harry_

_And oh, the prat. In the package was no doubt the corniest thing he could've thought to send her. It was a snow globe that they'd once purchased while on a trip in the Swiss Alps. The artist who had made the abomination had had a whole collection, each of a couple with different colored hair waving, snuggled close together and bundled up in snow gear. At the time, as love will do to sensible people, they'd immediately purchased the knickknack, and had even proudly displayed it on their shelf at home._

_Now, she stared down at the snow globe with pure disgust, or at least, at what was left of it. After looking at it for barely half a minute, she'd hurled it against the wall. It had left a sizeable dent, both in the wall and in her anger. Throwing things was always the best solution, wasn't it? She watched as the liquid that had been inside pooled around the glass shards, and in the center, the two figurines, once locked together in eternal embrace, had been torn apart by the force, and lay a fair distance apart, the man with the black hair facing the red-haired woman, and she facing away. She found the symbolism in all of this quite unnerving, but nonetheless left it there for the night, and went to sleep instead. The last thing she needed in her dreams was Harry Potter, and his stupid snow globes._


	2. Sharp Shards, Fragile Webs

The following morning, Hedwig II knocked on the window of Harry's apartment. Nothing. Several more taps ensued, and finally, he got up groggily, and let her in. She flew in impatiently, and immediately dropped the package on his desk. He stared at it intently. Was this good news, or bad? He supposed there was only one way to find out.

Grabbing his glasses, he sat down in his chair, all traces of drowsiness evaporated. Hungrily, he tore apart the string and tape with which it had been secured neatly. Inside the box, he found a lot of cushioning. Surely this was good? She was returning him something, which meant she valued it? He parted the paper, and reached in eagerly.

"Ow!" He pulled out his hand, wincing. It was bleeding slightly. This could not be good. Cautiously, he pulled the paper out of the box, until all that was left was… shards. Shard upon shard of glass. What had once been the snow globe, he supposed. And in the center of it all, a single figurine, with a large crack on one side, where another had once been attached. He stared at the lone figurine of himself, surrounded by shards. No, this was definitely not a good sign. But she'd come around, wouldn't she?

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Draco smirked at himself in the mirror. His godlike features had been marred by the few spells he'd long cast upon himself. He had to leave the apartment sooner or later, and the last thing he wanted was another encounter with angry wizards and witches. Black hair did not do a Malfoy service, and his skin was a good bit tanner than he was accustomed to. He shuddered. He couldn't bring himself to change his eyes though, and they glistened back at him as he took one final look in the mirror. It was worth it, to have some privacy at last.

He strode out of his apartment, and took precisely three steps, coming to a halt beside the door next to his. Time to meet the new neighbor. He knocked, two loud, harsh, knocks, and waited, tapping his foot. Moments later, the door opened, chain still in place. A head peeked out through the space left. A women, wearing a towel wrapped around her head, and a robe, clearly just come out of the shower.

"Er, hello. Do I know you?" she asked, all without budging. Her warm brown eyes met his, and for an instant, Draco lost his composure. Mind you, it was for an instant, and a second later, he responded.

"I'm the new neighbor, just came to say hello."

"Oh, um… well, come in!" She unlocked the chain, and opened the door, gesturing him to a couch as he stepped in. "I'm Gi- Gina. Yes, Gina. Can you hold on a second? I'll just go get dressed."

While he waited, Draco glanced around the apartment. It was smaller than his, but the floor was completely devoid of boxes, and he nodded to himself, impressed. That was a decent amount of wandwork, no doubt, to have finished all in one night and a morning.

Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, and his heart skipped a beat. Oh, wow.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Now she saw him properly. Could it be because he was gaping at her? Probably. There was something familiar about those eyes of his. Grey, unlike any she'd seen, and piercing. He was still staring at her, even as she went to sit down. Was it her hair? She'd dyed it the Muggle way, using something suspicious from a box, but it hadn't turned out too bad, or so she'd thought. When she had looked in the mirror, the dark brown hadn't looked too bad. He was still staring. This was getting uncomfortable. She cleared her throat loudly.

He jolted, flushing the slightest bit. Now she was really getting worried. She sat down on a small chair, facing him. "So, what brings you here, um…"

"Terrence. Terrence Calder."

And so, in the course of the next hour or so, the two sat, talking about nothing important, each frugally holding onto their history, while insatiably curious about the other's past.

While they cautiously wove their little lies, neither was aware that far away, a web of a far different nature was being spun.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Harry paced restlessly back and forth, over and over again. His feet scuffed the linoleum tile as he walked, and once in a while he would pause for a moment. He always started back up again within seconds, back and forth, back and forth, in their tiny kitchen. Or rather, his now, he supposed. His mind was pacing as fast as his feet, running over all the possibilities. He knew what he wanted. But how to get it?

And then, in a split second, it came to him. His feet stopped pacing, and a moment later his mind returned to its normal state, as he swiveled sharply and paused in front of a drawer. He stood there like that for almost a full minute, just staring down at the drawer, a smile creeping onto his face. This was going to be just perfect.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Ginny hated newspapers. Abhorred them so violently, that she tended to burn them, generally before taking in their content. So why was it that that a newspaper was sitting at her doorstep, neatly folded and pristine, awaiting a reader? She rubbed her eyes, and bent over to pick it up. Halfway back inside, her eyes locked on the headline printed in bold. She read it over, far too many times, her eyes not seeming to be able to transfer the information to her brain. It finally clicked. She then tossed it down, and turned abruptly on her heel, changing course. She needed a drink. Or seven.


	3. The Romilda Vane Conspiracy

Draco was awoken at some god-forsaken hour of the night by a loud bump. He prepared to return to sleep, brushing it off as some neighbor having a roll in the hay. After all, with such thin walls as these, it was almost as if they were separated by plastic wrap. Then, followed a loud groan, and the sound of crying. Not a romp then. Anyways, he couldn't imagine anyone who'd want to have it off in these filthy pits. He got up, cursing the needy , and made his way to the door. Rubbing his eyes, he grabbed his wand, whispering "_Lumos!"_ and then cautiously opened the door, ready to jump back inside at the slightest creak of the floorboards. After all, one could never be too careful these days. He emerged into the hallway.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

The first thing she noted was that the couch she was lying on was not hers. Oh, fuck. She immediately glanced down, breathing a sigh of relief at the fact that she was still fully clothed. What was she doing here, then? She pulled herself up, collapsing immediately as her head swam and everything went black for a moment. Well, that was out of the question then. Slowly, she opened her eyes again, gingerly rubbing her temple. Muggles mixed some pretty hard drinks, if you knew what to ask for, and she had last night. Several times over, in fact. All she could recall was downing quite a few shots, and trying to remember anything more than that unleashed the beast hiding in her head. She lay in this manner for a good half an hour perhaps, and slowly, the throbbing began to fade away. It was still present though, and she clutched her head as the sound of footsteps grew closer.

"Gina?"

Gina, who? What was this madman talking about, and why was he shouting? And then her memory returned her to the night before the last, and she raised her head a scarce few inches in response. This was Terrence, then. Which was all very fine and lovely, but it still had nothing to do with the reason for her current location.

"Terrence?" Her own voice sounded like a stampede of elephants, and she cringed. In response, a cup of coffee met her lips. It was at the perfect temperature, not scalding her throat on it's way down, and yet devoid of the lukewarm sensation she so despised. She wanted to tell him just how much she appreciated this, but as she opened her mouth, a gentle shushing sound met her ears, and a second wave of coffee coursed down her throat, drowning out whatever words she would've attempted to form.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Draco did not know why he was doing this. She was just his neighbor. In past years, he'd left his neighbors passed out on the stairs, without so much as a second glance. Walked right past them the following morning too. But there had been something so fragile, so young in the way he'd found her, crumpled in a heap at the top of the staircase, barely a few feet away from her own door, that had pulled at his heartstrings. He helped her sip at the cup of coffee until it was empty, and then went to make another. And another. And another. After every cup, she came around a bit more, until finally, she was able to sit up. She smiled at him.

He found himself smiling back, even as his muscles protested at being used in so unfamiliar a way.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Ginny still couldn't fathom why he'd brought her here. So, she asked. A simple question, and yet it took him quite some time to respond.

"Well, I heard a loud bump. And then you were crying. Anybody would've done it."

"But _you_ did."

The words faded away slowly, and the silence grew deafeningly loud. They didn't look at each other's eyes, each deep in their own thoughts. She broke the silence first.

"Last night, I was drinking… because of this." She dug deep into her pocket, pulling out a crumpled newspaper clipping, and handed it over to him. He unfurled it.

"_Newly Single Potter Back On The Scene" _read the headline. Below, Potter was shown sucking face with a girl obviously much younger then he was. Even the brief glimpse she caught of it as she handed it over to him, the feel of the paper on her fingertips, and her eyes began to water threateningly.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Draco's first instinct was to, of course, laugh. _Think you're so rebellious, don't you Potter?_ But he could see this was clearly important to Gina, judging by the fact that she was tearing up just at the sight of the photograph. He crumpled it and tossed it into the bin behind him, and then waited. His patience proved itself, as she soon after continued.

"See, he was my… my friend's boyfriend. And she left him, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't have feelings for him anymore. But see, that's definitely still hurting her. I mean, it's fine for him to move on and all, but like _that?_ The girl in the picture, the one who's all over him? That's Romilda Vane. In her fourth year, she gave him chocolates spiked with love potion. He's clearly using her for revenge, and that must be killing… my friend."

She looked up at him, realizing that she had launched herself on a tirade that was sure to drag on if she did not check herself in time. Draco didn't seem to mind. All throughout her speech, he'd been admiring her freckles. They lined her face, up her nose and all across her cheeks. Wringing her hands, she looked at him, and caught his glance. He looked away quickly, embarrassed to be caught. He sensed it was now his turn to hold up the conversation, and so he did, keeping his emotions in check as much as possible.

"I don't think he's worth your anger, or your friends. Someone who'll walk all over another person's heart, in such a manner? Well, that's just downright low. If he wanted to get the girl back, he'd come to her door with roses or write her a song or something."

Ginny thought this over. Draco, meanwhile, was surprised at his own words. Malfoys prided themselves on being distant and cold, and here he was, prancing about like a fruity Muggle in front of a girl he'd barely met. Disgusting. And yet, the words made sense to him, somehow. He knew that if he'd had a girl he really loved, he wouldn't be following Potter's path. Somehow, he knew so.

"You know what I really feel like doing right now?" Ginny's voice broke into Draco's head, pushing away his thoughts.

"What?"

"Dancing."

"Dancing?" Draco glanced at the clock hanging on his wall. It was ten after eleven o'clock in the morning, and she was definitely suffering from a hangover. "_Now?"_

_She nodded. He shrugged. It wasn't like he had a job to go to. The Malfoy inheritance was serving him well these days, the last remainder of his past._

_"Well, why not. I suppose I don't have anything else to do. Do you have a place in mind?"_

_Ginny mulled the question over for a bit, then nodded. She glanced down at her attire, stained and crumpled from last night's ordeal. Wordlessly, she stood up, and walked out of his apartment, pausing at the door to say, "Pick me up in thirty."_

_Draco remained sitting in his apartment, shaking his head. It was amazing what twenty-four hours could do to a person. Slowly, he got up. It was time to find something to wear._


End file.
